Afama’s letter to Amilla

Dear Amilla,

Hello, i hope you are well( you guyz have a way of saying words which tend to rhyme-hell and hello, sometimes it’s hard for one to know which one you mean for you have ‘hellowed’ a hell in our lives) Dude, this is not a friendly call! Make no mistakes about it, for friends don’t fly other friends’ wide open in the fields leaving them living naked and belly busted as hunger knocks down their will in the once very productive Shambas they had( shamba- garden).

Your double talk and promise betrays the very foundation of anything the definition of friendship entails. Graft and overwhelming profit at my expense has been your policy ever since we met, worst still, ever since you met my great grand father and here i was, so gullible in the comfort of a meaningless endeavor.

Ignorance is not a defense but truth is! That’s why as i serve you a plate of this poppycock that has been our partnership, i thrush myself, as i make me this one firm promise- never again shall i endeavor to walk a constant ignorant mutual path with anybody else. Not with you or any-other beasts out there to suckle on my blood like an insect only to fly away when Anemia kicks my guts out! never again Amilla!

On production and the way to enhance it, we smiled together as you provided guidance and I, manpower and farmland-my inherited farmland. We worked together as i convinced a whole village to listen to your ways and methods-my people and they agreed! but you, you were only interested with gains, you and your pals. Therefore no legacy to lose on your end and plenty profits to leap, but i listened to you, convinced others and wholeheartedly- 101% – worked on the common goal-production.

True to your thoughts, we yielded great and all smiles bright as the sun in summer joined the Harvest dance, little did we know that sooner than later they would gradually glimmer when the ball fell on your court and yours and that of your pals would brighten as your smiles broaden and graduate to a wild laughter, wild for the wilderness of ignorance forever yields but never benefits.

Mad at you and your cynical priorities is an understatement. I am indeed enraged and burning to serve you back a load of bollocks, if i was like you i would hunt you and personally delver it.But unlike you i am less cynical in my priorities and i believe and hope calamity will haunt your feigned merry to the gates of hell. When we produced crop in partnership with your ways, never did we agree that after you buy it from us at a throw away price, you would sell it back to us and the world at a sky rocketing price after packaging it. We can not afford it and that’s why the world laughs at our hunger failing to understand how it is that we go plate empty yet we are arable.

How you expected me to explain this to my people, about why their children cannot attain basics yet this partnership project of ours was aimed at more than that eludes my mind. Its revenues have grown and the world has certified it as a success but whose success is the point that eludes the judgement crowded world. Its blind to see and if it sees its so crowded to reason or maybe it knows but selects to focus on a biased narrative. Either way i am cooked and served with calamity and if by grace i walk out of this alive, never again shall i listen without observing.

Amilla and your Miller class, your mills can never serve without our crop, i shall make sure you receive non. The Afama class seeks an affirmative action on distribution of our hardly earned profits. If our demands to share the pie as we baked it are not adhered to, there shall be no pie, we will not bake it with our crop perhaps its time you millers milled air.

To ease the pain from the burning ulcers that partnering with you has given me, i will rest my pen with a quote from whoever was wise in yesteryear’s. Stupid is he who bites the hand that feeds him but dumb is the drunk who in his drunkenness pees in the mouth of the brewers Gourd!


Yours fried-fully,


Farmer of the Afama class.




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